Everything's Okay
by 2many2count447
Summary: S4 E1 speculation. Four years of hiding, hoping, that Chloe knows him for who he wants to be. But Chloe can see Lucifer for everything he really is now. There is nothing to withhold anymore. And he cannot handle it. Picks up right where "A Devil of my Word" ends off. (We're gonna pretend like those last two episodes didn't happen). Let me know what you think!
1. A Devil of His Word

"No matter what you tell yourself, you can't outrun what you've done. What you truly are."

"And neither can you."

Lucifer felt the breeze flow through the bullet holes in his shirt. His eyes fired into that devilish-red, his blood burning, surging and pulsating throughout his whole body. He was himself again, as he sneered over hellbound Cain's lifeless body. Snickering to himself, he basked in the adrenaline rush. The aches of his wings, the aftermath of the destruction of Cain, and the fallout would hit him later, and he knew it. But the Punisher in him felt the glory of it all. Finally, Cain would suffer. For everything. For Chloe, for Charlotte. The weight of the Underworld burdened his shoulders. Fear was such a pesky, pointless feeling. He was tired. Tired of living in fear of his Father's 'plan'. But this feeling, this freedom, made him feel whole again. Not to mention, an extra bit of glee knowing that dear old Dad _definitely_ would appreciate having to deal with Cain.

Glancing around him, he saw the consequence of battle. The floor was covered in feathers, like shattered remnants of his divinity. His bloodied feathers clung to each other. The room shook with the weight of the silence. Death loomed throughout, surrounding him, reminding him. Everyone who had taken up arms with Cain was lying in lakes of blood; all victims to his wrath. Then, a smooth voice rang out from the quiet. The unsureness in her voice was palpable as she moved towards the dark-suited figure crouched above Marcus.

"Lucifer?"

When he heard her voice, the power of it all washed over him again. A smile fell upon him as he stood up to face her. She was safe. And while human cliches were the bane of his existence, he couldn't deny to anyone, let alone himself, that the air moving in and out of the Detective's lungs was the single most important thing to him.

"Detective!" He grinned.

He watched her face turn. He had seen that expression many times before. Her confident stride turned to slow, backward paces. Once blue eyes disappeared into blackened, broken windows to her mind. He thought she was hard to read before, and it was nothing compared to now. As she whispered to herself, Lucifer recognized the slowing of the Earth. The smoke that had coursed through the air became stagnant, frozen. A strong hand gripped his shoulder, and he knew exactly who it was.

And he knew exactly what was happening.


	2. A Devil's Tune

Amenadiel stood behind his brother. This was not a form Lucifer took often, so it was still a surprise for _him_ to see his face this way. His brother, the Devil, the Bringer of Light, the Fallen Son, had fallen once again.

"The time has come, Brother," Amenadiel whispered.

Lucifer looked up towards him. Amenadiel's wings were unfurled behind him. Once burned and broken wings were now freshly bestowed on Amenadiel's back. They loomed over the collapsed Lucifer.

"You got your wings back. Congratulations. I suppose this means your theory was right." Lucifer nodded, recognizing that the wings he had now were different. The grey feathers had disappeared, replaced with coal-black plumes.

"Luci..." Amenadiel hesitated.

Interjecting and ignoring his brother, Lucifer continued. "I believe so at least… Cain losing his mark, you get your wings… There is no other explanation unless Dad has decided to involve himself a bit more."

"Lucifer, we should remove ourselves from this scene. There is too much evidence of the divine here," Lucifer noticed how his brother withheld himself from the whole truth. It only reassured what he feared.

"It's back, isn't it?"

"Yes, Lucifer. Let's go."

"But, the Detective… I couldn't leave her," Lucifer looked towards his partner. Her face was frozen in it's horrified and astonished state. His heart sank. He knew that it would be too much for her. After so long of hiding, hoping that she would be able to accept him for all that he is, he knelt before Chloe without his mask. His eyes felt as if they were filled with smoke. Tearing and shaking with anxiety, Lucifer crawled towards her. He grasped her hand, rubbing his thumb in tiny circles. "No, no, no…" Lucifer muttered to himself, "This cannot be happening…" Amenadiel gripped underneath Lucifer's arms and lifted him up. Lucifer groaned as the pain spread throughout him.

"Lucifer, I understand that you are worried about Chloe. But there is too much at stake here. The police will be here as soon as I stop slowing down time. Do you have any control, whatsoever? Can you hide your face?" They both hoped, but they both knew that it was different this time around.

With a heavy sigh, Lucifer let go of the Detective's hand and brushed a loose strand of hair away from her face, touching her cheek softly. "No, I don't believe I can."

* * *

Once Amenadiel and Lucifer had made it back to Lucifer's penthouse, the once stagnant air began to swirl and shift around them, and time gained its normal pace once again.

Lucifer sat on a stool, checked behind him either side and then unfurled his wings. Amenadiel looked at them. He took in a breath, taken aback at what he saw. No longer feathered, Lucifer's wings were black, thin, and veiny. That was a conundrum to solve later. For the moment, Amenadiel focused on the magnitude of the injury. They were bloody. The wings were unlike the rest of his body. For some reason, Lucifer's wings were unhealed. As a result, they still were bleeding, marked, bullet-hole laden.

"I won't lie to you, Luci. It's bad."

"Don't you think I bloody know that!?" Lucifer bellowed, throwing his fist into the countertop. He grabbed the hardest liquor he could find. 'To hell with the glass,' he thought. He didn't want it or need it. He painstakingly hid his wings away, looking at the resurrection of his true face in the reflection of the bottle. "I need to bathe," he said. Without another word, without another look, he left the room.

He sulked into the bathroom. Grabbing the edges of the vanity mirror, Lucifer looked at his own devil-face. His eyes glowed red as his anger raged within him. It twisted and turned, so much so that his throat began to ache. He grew angrier and angrier until he felt the pain. That same pain had he forced himself to feel when gripping the Flaming Sword, but a thousand times worse.

Lucifer stared into the sink, watching the tears drip down and disappear.

* * *

Lucifer sat at his piano, slowly tapping singular notes, listening to the way each strike reverbed and echoed in the room. Amenadiel made his way into the room and leaned against the wall, a silent guardian, hiding in the darkness. They were both aware of the presence of each other, but neither chose to acknowledge it. They had spent many centuries at odds with each other, but neither of them had experienced life like this before. This human existence, of loss, of love, was taxing. And as an alternative to a constant bickering war, they both chose to take comfort in the other.

Resting his hands on the keys, he began to play. (A/N: For immersion: Sonata al chiaro di luna:  watch?v=5-MT5zeY6CU) Lucifer had always taken an interest in music. He had always wanted to understand it in a way that he never thought he could. People seemed to put so much emotion into the notes and the lyrics. The classical piano was a paradox: full of wordless soliloquies, solo symphonies. When the instrument came to existence, Lucifer desired nothing more than to play it. Just as Beethoven had come around, Lucifer had clerically understood the piano. As he played Beethoven's works alongside him, he tended to dislike his style. There were too many awkward pauses, shifts between pianissimo and forte, that he never quite knew how to replicate. He hadn't understood the soul, the pain, that rested beneath each strike of the hammer. As he immersed himself in the lives of humans, he slowly had begun to understand. Betrayal, despair, regret, and death. The pursuit of desire. Sin. He was master of these. He understood them, ruled them, controlled them. And he loathed himself for it. He clearly remembered the night in Hell that he played, and played, and played, until it all made sense. For it was then that he realized that music, all real music, was in some way about him. His legacy. All humans placed the weight of living on him. Right or wrong, it ate at him.

As he continued with the piece, he grew in volume. When his heart began to clench in agony, it mirrored in his playing. The mind does funny things when it is in pain. He drew himself into a tunnel; the only thing that remained was him and his piano. The Devil chose to feel it all. The fear, knowing that the answer to the question he had been asking from the very start was no longer a mystery. The despair, knowing that Charlotte could no longer walk amongst them, safe from afterlife's judgment. Most of all, he sunk himself into the hopelessness. The hopelessness that clutched his stomach, its nails digging into the emptiness. The remnants of hope seeped from him, leaving him wasted, barren, and hollow. Lost in a desert, seeing mirage after mirage, memories of the past tricked him, like a serpent coiled around his hands, holding them in place. He recalled playing the very piano his hands caressed with Chloe. He recalled the way the smile gathered on her face, the way happiness gathered in his chest when playing her jovial tune. He remembered the first time he kissed her. Words were incapable of explaining what he felt. So he kept playing. He struck the keys with fervor and frenzy. His assiduity kept him from experiencing the world around him. Instead, shame kept him, a captor with no mercy.

The Devil played until the notes ran out.

The piano shut softly. In the cold, black reflection of the piano's lacquer, he looked at himself.

A/N: Thanks for reviews! They are greatly appreciated! Next chapter should be up soon, let me know what you think! I started it at the right time because that trailer gave me so many ideas. Also, sidenote, let me know if y'all are okay with me making this music-infused story, I don't know what it's called (I'll direct you to what to listen to while reading, I used it a bit in this chapter, but I'll stop if you guys didn't like it). Let me know!


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